Mama, How’s the Weather There?

Posing this question is my way and my mother’s in filling out our text messages to a length before sending to each other. I find it funny and annoying at times. I sometimes reevaluate my train of thoughts on how to better start a conversation with her. Within close distance at home, we would never start with this one for sure.

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Over breakfast, we would talk about chores and then it stretches to the likes of home improvements, renovations and dream houses and green lawns.

As of now we are limited to calls and texts to hear, read each other’s voices and messages. It would be two months, few days short today, that I am away from my her. I am taking some risks again by being back in the metro for a job I can stick with. A job I can grow myself to financial stability. Career goals, this year.

Last week, I called her. I asked her, how is she and the dreaded line, how’s the weather there? She answered happily. She said, she is alright, feeling fine and the weather has been tolerable. Hot and humid.

The dry season is still at hand and El Niño continue to intensify though isolated thunderstorms started to bring rains all over the country now. How that sounds of me as a weather man? Our conversation over phone could sometimes last for nearly an hour. Every 7 minutes our line would be cut-off by the network’s unlimited call promo. Read: ridiculous. I’m a prepaid mobile user, the cheapest way to communicate round here so I just have to suck it in.

Subjects on money and allowances, my brother E, food I eat, laundry, places I have been to the past days, what I been up to with my job applications, status of my living condition in my ex-apartment, and some other personal stuff—these are what our conversations would cover in an hour—of me to her and vice versa.

I can’t walk fast anymore. I walk at a pace slower than you all. I can’t take long flight of stairs.

 

So how’s the weather really? I would question her again on that and she would insert her laundry—how she started soaking the whites and dumping the colored in the washing machine. Her voice outbursts annoyingly when there is no electric power in our hometown. A power crisis is looming in the electric cooperative of our district. I feel sad for her when she tells me she missed watching her afternoon past time soaps and also she is tired fanning herself when it becomes too hot.

Asking her on how’s the weather there is my lifeline and my assurance of home. Mama is home. She have had hypertension attacks two years ago with dehydration. The heat is one of the factors that triggers hers. She has lifetime medicines to take for it. Not to heal but to counter future attacks. With these, she obliged to watching her diet and keep away from stress.

She is not getting any younger. I contend to seeing her in good health always. I pray for it everyday. I am at peace knowing she is living her life: enjoying moments of tranquil, sometimes solitude and away from worries as a retiree. I told her in the past that I want to share travels with her. Her answer comes in few seconds late. I don’t know but I hope she’s still willing to. I get to sense that she worries about us being her company.

She once said that, “I can’t walk fast anymore. I walk at a pace slower than you all. I can’t take long flight of stairs.” I answered, “Ma, that’s why God blessed you with four boys, all of us are more than enough to carry you around, walk with you slowly, and hold your hand for your balance.”

Ma, if the weather’s fine then we’ll all shoot for the moon.

Missing you.

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